


Stygian Crown

by Werepirechick



Category: 3Below (Cartoon), Tales of Arcadia, Trollhunters (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Akiridians Have Chess So The Author Can Use A Metaphor, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Brainwashing, Gen, Loss of Parent(s), Mental Instability, Mind Control, Self-Harm, Sort Of, also major character death tag isn't for the kids dw, basically tho this is just an awful terrible au and crockertier from HS is to blame, everything SUCKS but it'll be okay at some point, its all a blur and i didn't bother checking the wikipedia, no one look to hard at this story i watched the first season in one go, tfw your own sister is out to kill you
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 20:45:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17433227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Werepirechick/pseuds/Werepirechick
Summary: The black crown buzzes as it nears her, a high pitched keen that sets Aja’s nerves on edge. She knows, she knows it’s something that will hurt her, and she is so, so very scared.Mother- father- Krel- ANYONE- please, please help-“Stop- stopplease, let me go,let me go-”The crown’s burning metal meets Aja’s skin, and her world explodes into breathtaking agony.





	Stygian Crown

**Author's Note:**

> i had this thought at the end of my shift yesterday and i stayed up All Night writing the first part of it. my prediction for this fic is to be one or two chapters more, since i refuse to end up in Yet Another long fic that i don't have time for. also: i fudged a lot of the details in this i'm sure bc i don't remember how canon went specifically. if anyone sees something non-canon, just chalk it up as being part of the alt timeline aight?
> 
> also in advance i'll just disclaim any cringe guilt for using the crockertier tiaratop in this but not really. they're _energy beings_ , it's completely plausible their forms and cores could be corrupted like this! i toss out my coin now and bet that canon does something like this at some point. i for one will be very pleased when they do. :)

“ _AJA!”_

_“KREL!”_

Krel’s reach falls short of grabbing his sister, Aja’s form disappearing off the platform as a soldier tackles her. Zadra yells at Vex- to hold strong, to get the prince _out of here-_ and dives after Aja without a look back.

“ _No!”_ Krel screams, trying to follow- but a large hand grabs his arm before he can, holding him back as they rise from the hoards below.

“The lieutenant will protect her,” says Vex, and Krel can’t bring himself to fully believe that.

He fights against Vex’s grip, voice breaking as he yells for his sister. The chaos of the invasion swallows his cries whole, and Krel can’t hear anything beyond the cacophony.

 

-/-

 

“We must regroup before we even consider returning to Akiridion-5. The king and queen require time to heal, and we must locate the necessary parts to repair the ship-”

“All the while my sister could be _dying!”_ Krel shouts in Vex’s face. His four hands are in fists, Luug whining at his feet as he glares at his bodyguard.

Vex’s expression is tight and grim, though he makes visible effort to soften his words- uncharacteristic, and unappreciated at this time. “Prince Krel, you must understand, though Varvatos Vex is a most fearsome and formidable opponent, not even Varvatos Vex could conquer an entire army with a broken mothership and only blanks for backup.”

“You have _me!_ You have- you have Mother! Vex, we cannot- we cannot _leave her there!”_

“We will not! We will return when we are strategically ready. And Lieutenant Zadra went after princess Aja; no doubt by now the princess is safe and sound.”

“ _And what if she is not?!_ What if she is already dead- she and Zadra _both!”_

Vex has nothing to say to that, his eyes sliding away. Krel’s fists ache from clenching so long, but he has to keep them like that. It’s either that or grabbing his serrator and doing something brash and dangerous. Like drawing it on a seasoned veteran, a _commander_ of the king’s army, and using it to force Vex into taking him back home.

Krel feels like his core is breaking. He feels like it’s falling apart into little pieces bit by bit. He wants it to stop hurting, to stop twisting and throbbing and aching. _He wants his sister back._

Krel feels fluid leak down his face, hot like plasma and burning like a torch flame. His shoulders hitch, vision blurring as his core seems to collapse inwards and crack in half.

Luug pushes his face against Krel’s leg, whining even louder. Vex stares at Krel with a look of sheer panic on his face.

Krel’s traitorous voice lets out a noise that’s warped and painful, and he slowly, slowly kneels down on the floor of the ship. He wraps both sets of his arms around himself, clutching at his form like he can force it back to wholeness by doing so.

“Commander. The correct course of action would be to comfort the prince.”

“Ah, y-yes. Of course.”

Luug’s tongue is sticky and terrible, and Krel grabs his pet, bringing him close. Luug shivers and presses his nose to Krel’s neck, cold and wet and loving. It hurts. It hurts so much, like the careful hand Vex is putting on Krel’s shoulder.

“The Lieutenant is a more than capable soldier. She will protect the princess.”

Krel tries to open his mouth to ask _How can you promise that? How can you be sure?_

All that comes out is a long, high wail.

 

-/-

 

Aja falls.

Her attacker is immune to her clawing fingers, her defiant shout drowned out by the rush of air and clash of weapons. Aja falls for a split second and an eternity both, and the last thing she sees is the platform rising as she plummets- taking her mother, her father, _her_ _little brother_ \- and leaving her all alone.

Zadra’s face is furious as she falls as well, arms outstretched and desperate, light at her back and shadow on her underbelly. It’s like something ethereal and strange to Aja as she hits the floor and blacks out.

 

-/-

 

The world comes back to Aja in fragments and flashes.

She’s in pain. She can’t move. There are bright lights above her, people moving around her body. Shadows brush over her and monitors beep. Aja feels sluggish and exhausted, barely keeping her eyes open.

 _Where am I?_ is her first thought. The second one is _Where is Krel?_

Aja wishes her dulled panic of not knowing where her brother is would snap her out of her stupor, but her body remains limp and her mind slides towards unconsciousness again. However, someone comes to stand over her just before she passes out again. Their shadow is… big. Imposing.

_Vex?_

_“You_ _will not get away with this!”_

“Lieutenant, you of all people should know that is a lie. I already have.”

The piercing eyes that stare down at Aja are so much like her bodyguard’s, and yet unlike them in every way. There is nothing in them but hunger and cruelty.

“Ah, so the little princess is awake.” Morando smiles at her, baring his teeth. “Good. I would not want you to miss your own coronation, Princess Aja.”

Coronation? What? No, that makes no sense- the coronation was disrupted, Morando wants them all _dead,_ Aja is still a princess and she can’t be a queen, not while her mother lives-

( _Does_ her mother still live? Have any of her family members survived?)

“Where- where is-?”

“Shh. Hush, princess. Your brother and the others will be dealt with sooner than later. There are already hunters tracking them down. And when they are found… you will be ready to bring them home.”

Cold dread fills Aja’s core. She finds the strength to thrash against her restraints, bleary and terrified. Morando moves out of her line of vision, and Zadra’s voice becomes increasingly desperate. Aja twists and pulls, wrenching her arms in their cuffs.

She’s not strong enough to break them. More figures come to loom over her, hands reaching to push Aja flat against the table she’s strapped to.

“ _N-no,_ stop, stop _please-”_

No one listens, no one answers. Aja is trapped, stuck and unable to move as something is brought above her head, gleaming red and black.

“Please,” Aja whimpers, scared to her core. “ _Please,_ please _stop!_ Let- let me _go-!”_

 _“Morando-_ take me instead! Spare the princess, I- I will serve you in her place!”

“You and I both know, lieutenant, that the power of a pawn is nothing in comparison to a queen’s.”

Aja’s cheeks are wet, the sensation unfamiliar, and her throat is raw with her pleading. She tries to turn her head away- tries to evade whatever this _thing_ is that’s being lowered onto her- but the heavy hands keeping her still prevent her.

The black crown buzzes as it nears her, a high pitched keen that sets Aja’s nerves on edge. She knows, she _knows_ it’s something that will hurt her, and she is so, so very scared.

 _Mother- father- Krel- ANYONE-_ _please, please help-_

 _“Stop- stop_ please, let me go, _let me go-”_

The crown’s burning metal meets Aja’s skin, and her world explodes into breathtaking agony.

 

-/-

 

Zadra jerks against her captors, ignoring how her joints creak threateningly and her limbs leak bright fluid. It doesn’t matter if she rips herself to pieces trying to escape- that pain would be a fraction of what she’s enduring right now, listening to the princess scream like this.

Aja’s body is arched upwards against her restraints, an unnaturally and painful angle caused by the crown on her head. Lines of red are creeping across Aja’s body like jagged circuitry, sharp as they grow and branch off from one another, infecting the clean and clear blue of the princess’s inner light.

Aja’s eyes are rolled up into her head; mouth opened farther than it should as she howls. Zadra can’t bear to listen- she has to _save Aja,_ her princess, her liege, the little girl she’s watched grow up for so many years now and is _watching die right this moment-_

Zadra gives a scream of her own and surges forwards with renewed fury. She feels something in her left arm tear. Zadra ignores that sensation of torn ligaments and finally, _finally_ gets free. She steals a serrator off her former captors and decapitates them both- their forms disintegrating- and charges for the table as Aja screams and screams and _screams-_

Zadra is tackled from behind, brought down once again and chained at the wrists, her stolen weapon taken from her. Zadra kicks up against the soldiers holding her down, going so far as to head-butt one in the face, but she can’t break free in time. Not before Aja stops screaming and goes limp on the table.

Zadra stares up from the floor, only able to see the barest glimpse of her princess.

Aja remains still. Red light pulses faintly from her form, sickly and wrong.

Zadra finds herself unable to even speak, so struck by the horror of watching her future monarch die before her. And in such a way that she doesn’t even have the dignity of returning to her core.

Zadra puts her forehead to the floor, trying and failing to swallow the despair clawing its way up her throat. She’s failed. The prince is safe but Zadra has _failed,_ and now their bright, wonderful, _incredible_ future queen… has _died._

“Un-cuff her,” says Morando, voice even and unaffected. Zadra sucks in a sharp breath and cranes her neck, shooting the traitorous general a look containing all her fury, all her grief, all her promises to have his core crushed with her bare hands.

Morando barely acknowledges her, eyes only on the princess’s body. He watches as Aja is unstrapped, limb by limb, until she’s lying flat on the table without restraint.

Morando smiles a sick, dark smile. “Princess. It’s time to wake up, now.”

Zadra’s breath catches as Aja rises from the table. She watches in horror as the princess slowly gets off the table, stumbling briefly, and then standing tall.

Aja’s body is- stained. Altered. The black crown sits on her head, red light glowing along its rim. Aja’s eyes glow much brighter, though. Brighter red than any of the shocks of lightning across her body- twining around her limbs and into her core, nightmarish and sickening.

“Now do you see, Lieutenant Zadra? The process was not nearly as terrible as it looked. She will be happy, now. She will have a brighter, better future. Princess Aja, say hello and goodbye to your old babysitter.”

“Hello,” Aja says, toneless, flat. Her eerie red eyes turn to Zadra, blank of any life.

Zadra can only stare.

“Goodbye,” Aja says, just as flat and toneless as before, and doesn’t even twitch as Zadra is dragged away in chains, howling death at Morando the whole way.

 

-/-

 

Krel hates earth. He hates the form Mother has given their ship. He hates being here, knowing his parents’ cores are only barely stabilized, and not having a next step to fix that.

He hates the silence without Aja’s voice.

Krel doesn’t react as someone opens his bedroom door. He’s remained on his bed for hours already; he’s not planning on moving now.

“Howdy, son! We’re making some good old fashion all American burgers in the kitchen for dinner tonight! Your mother and I just found the _best_ use of mustard to go with them-”

“I’m not hungry,” Krel says sharply.

The blank wearing a human’s face falters.

“But, kiddo, growing boys need their supper-”

“I said I’m _not hungry._ Get _out.”_

A pause. Then, the blank closes the door, bidding quietly that Krel is welcome at the dinner table whenever he wants, and that they’ll be leaving his supper wrapped up in the fridge for him.

Krel knows he won’t eat the food. He’s not hungry- not with how his insides are in knots, getting tighter by the hour. Eventually, he knows he’ll get off this bed and head back down into the heart of Mother, and then he’ll go another day or so without stopping in his repairs.

Vex will hover and fuss with his booming voice and empty encouragements, Luug will eat something he shouldn’t and cry every now and then as he looks for Aja. Mother will calmly instruct Krel where damage to her mechanics is located, and offer him monotone comforts as he works. Krel will keep working until his vision is blurry and all six of his limbs are too heavy to lift. Then he’ll pass out in a corner of the ruined interior, sleep restlessly for however many hours, and wake tucked carefully into his bed.

Rinse and repeat. That’s the phrase the blank posing as his human mother used at some point; possibly when deflecting questions of strangers about why Krel hasn’t gone to school.

_“Our boy is homeschooled, isn’t that right, honeypie?”_

_“Sure is, sweetums! Krel is our lil genius; we couldn’t bear to let him be stunted by mediocre teaching.”_

The blanks are good for something, at least, even if none of them could stand up to Morando’s forces. That’s why Krel is tinkering with the ship’s weapons while he fixes the more vital portions. Their defensive and offensive ability is _decent_ when Mother is fully functional, but.

Decent won’t save Aja.

If Vex refuses to return for Krel’s sister without backup, then Krel will turn their ship into an armada all on its own if it’s the last thing he does.

Krel will not leave Aja on Akiridion to die. He _will not_ let Morando take his sister from him. Krel is not going to just _sit here,_ twiddling his thumbs and training at a beginner’s level, spending days and days and _days_ wondering if Aja is even still _alive-_

Krel has to stop, now and again, because his core will seem to just- stop working. He can’t move right during those moments. His mind fills with static and untethered thoughts. His hands shake around whatever tool he’s clutching and he’ll find tears collecting on the edges of his eyes.

“It is called a panic attack, my prince. My database of mental and physical wellbeing in the average Akiridian tells me that it is one of the symptoms commonly found in PTSD. Also known as post-traumatic stress disorder.”

“I do not- _care_ , what it is called,” Krel hisses, shaking. “Just- make it _stop.”_

“Affirmative. Follow my instructions, Prince Krel. Breathe in.”

Krel breathes in.

“Hold for five, four, three, two, one- and exhale.”

Krel lets out the breath.

“Breathe in,” says Mother, and they repeat themselves for a few minutes, breathing in and out over and over. A part of Krel’s mind says this is ridiculous and a waste of time; he should keep working, he has to get back to Aja, he doesn’t have _time_ to be weak like this.

“Think of something calming, prince Krel. The turmoil of your thoughts is part of what caused your panic attack. Breathe in, breathe out, and imagine a place that you are safe.”

Krel breathes, in and out, and tries. He tries to think of somewhere safe- not anywhere here on earth, that’s for sure. And not home, either- just thinking of Akiridion-5 threatens to undo all of Krel’s progress.

Eventually, a collection of his memories come together to form a scene. Krel pictures his home, his _real_ home- the inner rooms of the castle, where he and his family lived. He pictures himself, his father and mother, and he pictures Aja. He pictures all of them happy, whole, and apart from anything else in the world.

Tears slide down Krel’s nose as he remains curled over his knees, forehead against the floor. His coronation ridge feels like a brand.

“Breathe in, breathe out. You are doing well, my prince. You are being very brave. I am proud of you, Prince Krel.”

Krel lets out a hoarse laugh filled with bitterness.

He doesn’t feel brave. All he feels is scared.

He listens to Mother, though, and keeps breathing until the tremors in his body stop.

 

-/-

 

Aja traces a line down her arm. She studies it.

Red.

Bright, glaring red.

She blinks slowly, pressing the sharp tip of her finger against the skin of her exposed forearm. The palest blue wells up in the lines she draws over the red, a faint flare of pain coming from the cut in her form.

Aja watches the fluid drip down her skin, falling to the floor in small droplets.

“Princess- you, uh. You are bleeding, my liege.”

Aja turns to the servant with her. She stares at the woman, unblinking. The woman shrinks under her gaze, as though Aja is hurting her with a simple look.

The bright fluid continues to slip down her arm, between her fingers, and onto the floor. _Drip, drip, drip…_

“My armor,” Aja says, paying no mind to the servant’s comment. Morando told her to get her new clothing and armor. She will receive them and fulfill that task. She doesn’t know why she was doing that to her arm- it serves no purpose.

_Drip, drip, drip…_

“O-of course, my liege,” the woman says quickly, and hurries to dress Aja. The inner sleeve is smeared with the clotting cut on her forearm, but Aja pays little attention to it. It isn’t grave enough an injury to hinder her in battle. She won’t bother with it any further.

Settling the plate against her chest, Aja lets the servant check everything has slotted into place properly. Aja looks to the mirror on the wall as the servant finishes, backing away with her head bowed, and Aja stares blankly.

She wonders who the person in the mirror is. Not herself, surely. Aja knows what she looks like. She looks like her mother and father and brother- the traitors they are. She doesn’t look like this, streaked with red and walking around with a band of black metal on her crown.

That’s not her.

“Your mirror is broken,” Aja informs the servant, and steps down from the dressing podium. The semi-transparent cape around her shoulders lifts in a gentle billow as she does, following her like a pair of folded wings as she strides away from the room.

She doesn’t see the pained, pitying look the servant woman gives her.

Aja walks to where she was told to meet Morando. She comes to a slow stop as she approaches him, standing at attention and waiting for further orders.

“Princess,” says Morando.

“General,” Aja returns.

Morando laughs, eyes moving up and down her body in examination. “You almost look like you could pose a threat, wearing that armor. Let us make that threat a true one.”

“Alright,” Aja agrees easily, accepting the new task.

“Excellent. Your teacher is right here, Princess Aja, and she has been _very_ excited to start your training.”

Aja looks to where Morando is pointing. She sees the woman from the room she woke up in a few days ago. Aja tilts her head a little, confused why Morando had told her to say goodbye to the woman if they were going to see each other again.

“Zadra. I trust you will obey our set rules?”

“…Yes, general.”

“Good, good. I am glad you have come around to sense, lieutenant. I would hate to waste such a skilled warrior.”

Aja feels something in her center twitch at that sentence. Then the crown on her head burns hotter than usual, searing away that twitch.

Aja feels the pain of the burning slip away as Morando leaves. She’s now alone in the training room with the woman she shouldn’t have seen again but is seeing anyway. Zadra. That’s right, the woman is Zadra.

Zadra is always around. Why would Morando imply Zadra was leaving Aja?

Maybe he thought she was a traitor, like Aja’s family members are. Aja is relieved to know Zadra isn’t, though.

“Hello again,” Aja greets Zadra, using the tone she remembers from somewhere. A polite tone, for interactions of prestige and importance. Aja is about to start her training, and she’s a queen in waiting. This is a very important day for her.

Zadra stares at Aja instead of replying, though, which isn’t polite at all. Aja is about to ask why Zadra isn’t following the rules, when the woman lets out a strangled noise that Aja immediately hates.

“ _Princess,”_ Zadra gasps, rushing forwards and grabbing Aja in a tight hug. “Oh, _Aja._ I thought- I am sorry, my liege, I am so, so sorry.”

“It is okay,” Aja comforts, mimicking another tone she remembers- _long hair, kind eyes, wise words and caring touches-_ Aja shakes off the memory as the crown burns against her scalp. She ignores the pain and says, “You chose the right side in the end, Zadra. General Morando is right to have forgiven you for betraying Akiridion-5 like you did. You will be an asset in coming wars.”

Zadra’s hug around Aja goes stiff. Slowly, the woman leans away, releasing Aja from her grasp. A brief thought flashes through Aja’s mind- _grab her hand, don’t let go, please don’t let me go please Zadra_ catch me-

The crown burns.

“Zadra?” Aja asks.

“…My princess,” Zadra says in a soft, horrified whisper. “Oh, Aja. What has he done to you?”

Aja tilts her head, confused once more.

“He fixed me, Zadra,” Aja says plainly, spreading her arms to show her armor, her short cape, her red, red lines- “Like he will fix Krel, and my mother and father. So we can lead Akiridion into a glorious new age.”

Zadra has a hand over her mouth, eyes wide with emotions Aja can’t parse. She discards the fleeting concern she feels for the woman’s emotional wellbeing- it isn’t a priority.

“The general wants us done before evening,” Aja reminds Zadra, the rigid urge to complete the task pressing at her. “Lieutenant- may we begin?”

Aja doesn’t understand why Zadra is still staring at her like that.

She doesn’t understand why a very small, smothered part of her hurts to be stared at like so, until the crown burns away those confusing thoughts and refocuses her.

No distractions.

Only progress.

“I… Yes. Let us… let us begin, then,” Zadra says falteringly.

Aja recalls a memory again about what to do when someone has done something right. Aja gives Zadra an encouraging smile.

Aja doesn’t understand why this makes Zadra’s expression become so stricken.

**Author's Note:**

> [i have a tumblr for ToA!](https://chillahead-bridge.tumblr.com/) come join me there, or hmu on [my discord server](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fdiscord.gg%2FPBqStWv&t=MzkxZDhlYTE4MzIwMjg2MjRkODQxZDEzMmI0NzZmMWE0ZmI2YjJlNCxaaTNMZXNvZw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-wa90Tij4jaMp7hiAUjeg&p=https%3A%2F%2Fonthespectrumwriting.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F180852645418%2Fspectrum-discord&m=1), which is for anyone who likes my writing and opinions about cartoons and wants to contribute to that insanity.


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